


in the cheap seats

by noblealice



Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Mission Fic, Post-Canon, Undercover
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-17
Updated: 2012-07-17
Packaged: 2017-11-10 04:32:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 818
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/462236
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/noblealice/pseuds/noblealice
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Natasha hissed a whisper to him. “This is ridiculous. Who would try to assassinate the ambassador in a theatre?”</p>
<p>He couldn’t help but smirk because while everyone else tried to avoid her when she was irritated, Clint loved her more abrasive side. He’d even been accused of bringing it out intentionally.</p>
<p>“Ever heard about a man called Lincoln?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	in the cheap seats

Natasha hissed a whisper to him. “This is ridiculous. Who would try to assassinate the ambassador in a theatre?”

He couldn’t help but smirk because while everyone else tried to avoid her when she was irritated, Clint loved her more abrasive side. He’d even been accused of bringing it out intentionally.

“Ever heard about a man called Lincoln?”

She rolled her eyes, pointing at the exits. ”Look at the layout of this place, it’s a mess. Extraction alone would be a nightmare and—”

“And you’re just upset because it’s not how you would do it.”

She leveled her eyes at him, a look that would have most junior agents squirming. He merely grinned, long ago accustomed to the threat in her eyes.

In reply, she sat back in her chair without a sound, her face now an expressionless mask – which usually meant she was hiding her anger.

He moved to place his hand on her shoulder. “Y’know, it’s not how I’d do it either.” She shrugged his hand off and shifted in her seat to face away from him. If they had been down in the cheap seats, no-one would have noticed, but he knew that their fellow patrons in the opera box were more interested in society gossip than anything that would happen on stage tonight.

He could tell without looking that her abrupt cold shoulder had attracted a few stares. “You’re not really helping our cover here, Nat. We’re supposed to be a couple out on a date.”

“This is part of my cover. I’m extremely pissed off at my boyfriend because he forgot our anniversary.”

He rubbed a hand over his face, suppressing a groan. “Please don’t tell me we’re doing Anchorage, I hate having to pretend that the security guys can take me in a fight.”

“A fight during intermission is the perfect distraction. I’ll leave in tears and subdue our wannabe assassin.”

He didn’t have to fake his grumpiness as he slouched back in his own seat, scanning the program to see how long they had before intermission. Maybe if he could come up with an alternate plan, Tasha would drop this idea.

He didn’t doubt her instincts; a distraction in the lobby _would_ give her enough time to complete the mission. He just hated when she hacked in to get the security footage later and displayed it for all of SHIELD to see. Last time she grinned with an air of smug satisfaction while he had to fend off insults for two weeks. Didn't they know he had been _letting_ the mall cops get the drop on him?

At least he could appreciate the show while he waited and soon he was so engrossed in the opera that he was almost able to forget about what his next move was. 

People tended to make assumptions about him before they ever got to know him. Tony had rigged his shower to play a seemingly random and never-ending selection of honky-tonk whenever he stepped under the spray of water.

As embarrassing as it had been, he’d had to ask Bruce for help disconnecting it because Natasha wouldn’t let him shoot up the tile. Sure, he liked classic rock and country, could stomach it for a night or two, but after too long and it reminded him of his childhood in the circus. He couldn’t stop hearing the twang of a death-defying leap or the rumble of near-silence before a knife was thrown. The smoky voices of the trainers lulling their animals back to their cages and the fast two-step of the jugglers and clowns. 

He was more at ease with instrumental music, no lyrics to distract his focus, just the hum of violins and the clear notes of a piano while he sat up high, watching everyone below move in sync with the orchestra. 

The lyrics of the opera they watched were lost on him, so he concentrated on the sound of the vowels instead. He likes how they can be stretched out and twisted into new shapes, all at the will of the soprano. It's the same control he feels when looking down the sight of his bow.

Beside him, Natasha doesn’t seem impressed, but she doesn’t approve of anything that’s been diluted from its original language into something more audience-friendly.

The stage went dark and moments later their box lit up. He reached for her hand, only to have her shrug him off. It looked like he was going to have to go through with her plan after all. It was such a shame, he’ll be escorted out with a few more bruises than he had coming in and since he’s expected to rendezvous with Nat twelve blocks away he’ll never find out how it ends.

He wonders where the next stop on their tour is. Maybe he can convince Nat to accompany him again, but in the cheap seats next time.

**Author's Note:**

> written with help by hjea and will be very familiar to anyone who follows me on tumblr, as it was posted there first in pieces. unbeta'd, all mistakes are my own.


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